


Elektra's On My Pull List

by viceindustrious



Category: Kick-Ass (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceindustrious/pseuds/viceindustrious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris knows it's wrong to want this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elektra's On My Pull List

Chris knows it's wrong. Fucked up. Fucking _sick_.

Sick like something that's so messed up you just can't look away. Like clicking through photos of fatal accidents, man meets meat grinder, motorcyclist forgets his helmet, all that nasty shit you can find online. Stomach squirming, grossed out and fascinated at the same time.

But worse than that.

Worse than any of that stuff. Weirdo fetish porn that he might jerk off to and then wonder if there's something wrong with him, but not really because he _knows_ what's wrong with him, that there's nothing as bad as _this_. Because there's nothing that's under his skin so deep, crawling, that he wishes he could dig the fuck out of him so bad.

It doesn't matter how hard he scrubs his skin in the morning, shower running hot enough to turn him bright pink. Doesn't really help to rub one out there and then before he comes out for breakfast. Not if his dad is sitting at the table in just pyjama pants and a dressing gown.

That's his _dad._ He shouldn't find his eyes following the dark shadow of hair going down his chest, down his stomach, disappearing into his waistband. He's sure it started off as something else, this mix of curiosity and admiration and jealousy and he doesn't know what the hell else, except the feeling was so fucking strong.

But then the way he knew he should hide it, the way it made the back of his neck burn, he knew it wasn't right even before he knew why. That it made him hot. That his dad made him _hard_.

Guys his age get hard ons all the time right? But there's only so long you can cling to that excuse when you have to tell your dad you're just not interested in martial arts, geez. There was his dad, shaking his head with so much damn disappointment in his eyes, that his son would rather read comic books than learn something useful, but Chris knew that was better than how his dad would look at him if he knew the truth.

Just the thought of his dad showing him how to make a throw, adjusting his stance, being pressed up close to him like that, _fuck_. Yeah that's a thought that has him locking his bedroom door and reaching for the kleenex every time.

It's not fair that their apartment is so expensive but he can still hear the noises his mom makes when his dad fucks her. Maybe it's not the walls that are too thin. Maybe it's his mom who's too loud. 

What's he doing to get her to make those kinds of noises? Chris can close his eyes and imagine but sometimes that's not enough and he has to get out of bed. Sneak down the hall, total ninja shit, plastered against the wall and hope they've left the bedroom door open. Just a crack, wide enough for him to stare through, one hand shoved down his pants.

Watching his dad. That fucking power. A man, a real man, everything Chris isn't. Muscle and sweat and the roll of his hips making Chris ache. He wants that.

Wants to be under that. Wants to jerk off. Wants to throw up.

He wishes he could feel his dad sitting next to him without freezing up, trying not to lean into that heat, terrified he's going to give himself away. Deep down though, if wishes could come true, that's not what he'd wish for. Not even to be the son his dad really wants. He'd wish that his dad would notice, would see how sick, how disgusting he is and realize that that's all he's good for. Punish him, right. His son's a fucking fag with a hard on for his own father, fuck him hard like he deserves, just- just-

Make use of him. Chris thinks about that after he's been in his parent's bedroom, rifling through the laundry hamper to find a used pair of his dad's boxers. Smuggles them back to his room and presses them against his face. That's enough to make his cock twitch, that smell, where they've been tight all day against his dad's body, getting damp with sweat in the dark. Best is when there's a pair his dad has been working out in, fuck he feels dirty then but it only makes him harder. Opens his mouth against the place where his dad's cock has been cradled.

Chris never comes so hard any other way. The shock wave of shame that follows makes him fling the underwear across the room, has made him run to the toilet bowl more than once, makes him want to hurt himself (but he's too much of a pussy to do that) and he'll swear to himself that this'll be the last time.

Every time.


End file.
